


I'll Fight It ('cause you ask me to)

by halfsour



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Drunkenness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Tension, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 04:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18985585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfsour/pseuds/halfsour
Summary: Caleb’s last sober memory of him was a hand on his shoulder, palm warm, and a whispered, “Goodnight, Caleb,” in his ear.





	I'll Fight It ('cause you ask me to)

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, i planned for this to be fluffy, and this monster came out instead. 
> 
> content warning: there is detailed descriptions of vomiting in the beginning of this. 
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> title is from more than you know by fenne lily.

Caleb can feel the snot pulling out of his nose as he retches once more down onto the dark cobblestone. He coughs once, twice, and it makes a horrible sound inside his chest before he spits up again onto the ground, panting heavily, clumsily trying to find purchase against the stone wall with his clammy palms, fingertips digging into the cold solid weight.

As it turns out, taking the several offered drinks out of Nott's flask was not a great idea.

Caleb groans as another wave of nausea hits him, his mouth already feeling thick with the saliva pooling before he has to bend in two and retch once more. Tears start to burn in the corner of his eyes, and Caleb clumsily scrubs at them with the knuckles on his left hand before heading deeper into the alley. The stale smell of urine and ale isn't exactly helping his fragile stomach, but anywhere away from the loud conversation and laughter from the patrons inside the raucous tavern is better than nothing.

Beau and Jester had gone off on their own to explore the rest of the small town, doing what, Caleb has no clue, but knowing how that pair works, he’s sure they’ll have a story to share come morning. Nott and Molly had started a card game with a group of already very trashed gnomes and are now currently drinking away their earnings at the bar. And Fjord is…somewhere.

Caleb’s last sober memory of him was a hand on his shoulder, palm warm, and a whispered, “ _Goodnight, Caleb_ ,” in his ear. The burn in his cheeks then and now can both be blamed on the retched whiskey Nott keeps in her flask and not for any other ridiculous reason.

Stumbling further down the alleyway, Caleb’s right foot accidentally kicks into an empty barrel of ale and the resounding _crash_ when it topples over is loud enough to hurt his own sensitive ears.

“ _Scheisse_ ,” Caleb curses as he corrects his footing and rubs at his temples, trying to quell the impending headache that’s surely on its way.

There’s a distinct _thunk_ as a window is being opened and Caleb instinctually steps back further into the shadows. With his blurry vision he can barely make out a head emerging from the opened window on the second floor of the tavern that begins scanning the alleyway slowly before settling in his direction.

“Caleb?”

Caleb may be piss drunk, but he’d know that drawl anywhere. He steps away from the wall, sending a ball of light up 5 feet in the air. Fjord appears, squinting at the sudden brightness, Caleb notices he looks half asleep, his chest bare and hair mussed out of its usual slicked back style.

“Sorry, Fjord,” Caleb focuses on the words for longer than necessary, even he can hear how scratched his throat is from heaving his guts out moments ago.

He attempts and fails to keep eye contact with Fjord up at the window, who’s eyebrows have a deep furrow in between them. _Gods_ , Caleb thinks, Fjord still manages to look handsome even roused from his sleep by a drunk Zemnian bastard.

Fjord is quiet for a second, studying Caleb, “Are you alright Cay?” He pauses, seemingly waiting for a reply that Caleb is not willing to give, and then speaking up again, “What are you doing down there?”

Caleb looks back over his shoulder, at the spot where he was just massively sick all over, “Redecorating,” he replies, chuckling to himself.

Caleb means to explain more but his stomach rolls again, forcing acidic bile up and out of his throat. It sprays mostly over his boots this time, covering them in more filth than what was there before.

“Caleb!” Fjord shouts, shocked at Caleb’s sudden upheaval, “Stay there, I’m coming down.”

And then Caleb is left in the quiet again. Covered in his own vomit and feeling like a literal shit stain of a human. He came out here to give everyone space from his bullshit, not force Fjord out of his sleep to babysit him. But he doesn’t have much more time to dwell on his selfishness, when the sound of Fjord’s running footfalls meets his ears.

“C’mon Cay, let’s get you inside,” Fjord says, panting, settling a hand on Caleb’s shoulder and turning them around to walk down the alley and past Caleb’s shame.

It takes Caleb entirely too long to make it up the short set of stairs. His feet seem to have been switched to the wrong side and his knees have gone missing. Fjord more than once has to physically pull Caleb with both his strong palms under his arms, up to the next step. And every time it happens, Caleb feels like he’s flying.

“Fjord,” Caleb starts with a hoarse whisper once they make it up to the second floor, his head wavy and thick with the invisible weight tacked onto it that has been making his thoughts go slow, “I don’t know which room mine is supposed to be.”

There’s a quiet pause, Fjord seeming to assess that statement, while Caleb stares down at the small hole on the outer edge of his boot, flexing his toes to see it distend and settle back in over and over again.

“That’s just fine, you can stay in mine tonight,” Fjord finally says, opening the first door on the left of the hallway and simply ushering Caleb inside with a gentle shove.

Once the door to the hallway is shut, a quiet hush is settled across the room. The sheets on the bed are rumpled and Fjord makes himself busy sorting them out, while Caleb looks down at the shadow of Fjord the moon is casting across the dusty floor. Caleb’s fingers twitch, the urge to reach out and trace down the side of Fjord’s arm is suddenly overwhelming. Instead, he grits his teeth and toes off his disgraced boots, holding onto the wall for balance.

“It’ll be a tight fit, but we should be able to get some shut eye here tonight,” Fjord says, cutting the quiet and Caleb nods distractedly, refusing to meet Fjord’s eyes just yet.

They both lay down, Caleb on his side facing the still slightly open window, and Fjord beside him. His stomach is still in knots, but Caleb can’t decipher if it’s from the proximity of their shared bed, or the alcohol. Perhaps both. A shiver runs through him, despite the sweat already pooling at his neck.

“Is it too forward of me to assume this was brought on by something in particular?”

Caleb hates him for even asking, hates him for being so kind to him all the time, for bothering to _care._ He has to clear his throat a few times before speaking, “Sometimes the past isn’t always easy to ignore.”

It’s vague and he knows it, but Caleb isn’t ready to unearth all of that quite yet, no matter how much liquid courage is coursing through him.

Fjord chuckles, “Yeah, I know how that feels.” Caleb peeks over his shoulder, the moonlight barely giving him enough illumination to see the way Fjord is tracing over the scar across his lip.

Caleb turns to lie down on his back, the new position giving him a better view of Fjord next to him, and he breathes out heavily, letting the stress that’s coiled around his shoulders go. “How do you stop the fear of it from swallowing you whole?”

Fjord’s quiet, contemplating Caleb assumes, long enough that Caleb’s eyelids begin to droop, the exhaustion from the day and his evening activities finally hitting him.

“You can’t let it, you have to take that fear and push yourself into it, use it as a strength instead of a crutch,” Fjord finally replies, voice quiet but firm. “If we can’t outrun our past, we might as well use it to fight like hell for the future.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Caleb whispers, fire burning behind his eyelids as the screams begin to replay in his mind.

“Promise me Caleb,” Fjord says, shifting closer so Caleb is forced to meet his eyes, “Promise me you’ll fight.”

Caleb nods, eyes shifting down to Fjord’s lips before he catches himself and looks away. “Only if you promise to stand right beside me.”

Fjord reaches up to tug at Caleb’s ear, a smile pulling onto his face, “Always, Cay.”

Caleb’s chest tears open as he watches Fjord lay back down to find his rest for the night, the confessions fighting to crawl up out of his throat, but he swallows them down and turns back to face the window, the moon mocking him as it sways slightly in the sky.

He just has to fight it.

**Author's Note:**

> i can only blame myself for this, but don't worry i'll be back with more soft widofjord soon. ilu all.
> 
> any and all feedback is appreciated!


End file.
